Fifty Years of Leashed Rage
by FenrirMoridin
Summary: Same drill as the other ones, a fanfic based on MechaGM's Shadowland campaign at twitch.tv. This time I decided to adapt part of session 22, since I think it's a bit too easy to forget that a PC royally pissed off a major villain considering the shenanigans latter on in that session. So this is my attempt to capture that moment AND give the Kavra'hal a little reputation boost.


Errol Jadeis liked numbers. There were simple and easy to understand, with no complicated intentions behind everything they did. Five and seven came together to make twelve because there was a sign adding them together, not because they liked each other and wanted to form a relationship. It was his admiration for numbers that made the role of head clerk an excellent disguise for his time in Eastgate. Errol legitimately enjoyed running the account of the church of the Raven Queen and making sure it was financially solvent. His work usually only took an hour or two a day, leaving him the rest of the day to work on the various projects he needed to keep the primordial cult on track to revive their primal deities. Currently he was looking at the financial records of Eastgate's burgeoning criminal underworld. The drow underestimated the growth cause by their relaxed grip on the city, their attention distracted by the recent troubles over the succession of the empress. Errol wouldn't make the same mistake: he knew just how much money was going into the underworld and where it went, the first two steps to making that money his. Xellia would need a couple more names to add to her target list, so Errol made a mental note to tell the succubus when she returned from her assignment at the governess's mansion.

Errol heard a knock on the door, breaking his focus. He didn't need to worry about anyone seeing what the numbers were actually showing: a relatively simple spell ensured that the numbers reflected boring day-to-day tasks to everyone else. Errol set down his pen, soaking in the silence now that its soft scratching had ceased for a few moments before calling out for the person to enter. He was surprised to see the acolyte responsible for welcoming people into the church that day open the door and stick his head in.

"Head clerk Jadeis, there's a couple here to see you. A male drow and his female consort, by the looks of it." Errol's sigh must have been audible, because the young acolyte raised an eyebrow before continuing: "Shall I tell them you're out at the moment?" Errol considered the acolyte's words for a minute, forcing the impatient young man to wait as punishment for his show of disrespect. He had no idea why Canna would have returned and Zelas had no personal interest in him, so it was tempting to let the acolyte lie. Even as he thought about going back to work he felt that faint tingle that had accompanied his consciousness ever since Canna had put the bizarre divine spell on him. All it did was let her know his location, but the small amount of curiosity he had left demanded he know why they were here so soon after their last meeting, especially since Canna knew he was there.

"No, I can spare a very short period of time. Tell them I'm willing to see them then escort them back here as quickly as possible. I am a busy man." The acolyte turned and quickly scurried off, eager to deliver the message and bring back the odd couple so that he could return to his duties quickly enough to avoid irking his higher-ups. Jadeis waited for the door to close before he began to start closing books and pushing them to the side. He was almost certain that the neither Canna nor Zelas would have an object capable of piercing the simple illusion, but he had lived long enough to know that the risk was enough to justify warranting several seconds' worth of action on his part. He rested his hands on his desk, waiting a couple of minutes for the acolyte to finish escorting Canna and Zelas back here. It wasn't long before he heard the approach of two sets of footfalls; Errol wondered if the party ever realized Zelas always walked quietly, even when he was pretending to be someone else. The door opened and the acolyte walked in before being followed in by Canna and Zelas, the former looking much more certain about her purpose than the latter.

"That will be all," Errol said to the acolyte before turning towards Canna and Zelas. He made sure to sigh noticeably before remarking, "You again." Canna proved to still have the subtlety of a stone as she turned to make sure the door was closed before actually sitting down. Zelas remained standing, the befuddled look on his face convincing Errol that neither male knew what the fiery-haired female was about to talk about.

"I have something I want to talk to you about," Canna began, and Errol felt his stomach turn at the tone of her voice. There was a hint of something in her voice, a note of familiarity that he found vaguely unsettling. He closed his eyes for a moment, wondering why this girl seemed to keep him off guard as much as his dangerous second-in-command. He pinched the bridge of his nose before interrupting her:

"On the one hand I have to admire your…bravado for walking back in here again. Just the two of you. On the other hand I am extremely busy. So this had better be good…or I may just have to deal with you now." He let that word hang heavy in the air with malice, his threat both effortless and obvious. He saw hesitation pass across Canna's face for a few seconds, but eventually it passed as she sighed, squared her shoulders, and started talking.

"When I came over the Wall…I had a lot of changes happen to me. I like to think most of them are for the good, but that's not the case. In fact, for the most part, almost every decision I made after coming over the Wall has been for the worse…If you had come to me with your offer a month ago I might've just been angry and desperate enough to agree to it, but…I met somebody who gave me the strength to change my ways-someone who I could share myself with. It's helped me a lot," Canna finished, reaching out to take Zelas's hand, who gave her a quick smile. Canna continued: "I can't help but feel…when I look at you…that there's some sort of connection there-that you're-you and I-aren't that different." Errol almost laughed aloud at her awkward statement, at just how wrong she was. He limited his reaction to raising one eyebrow, but Canna was either too blind or too wrapped up in delivering her speech to notice his disbelief.

"I want to know what happened. You said that you were here when the drow first invaded and that you had a city, but…who was in that city?" Errol couldn't hold back all of his surprise at the suicidally bold question, at the sheer gall she had to ask him such a personal question. Before he could tell them to leave for their disrespect a dim ray of light came through the window, hitting an errant lock of Canna's hair. Errol wasn't a man given to losing himself in the past, but that flash of red awakened a part of his soul he long thought dead. Without further prompt, for the first time in years, Errol felt his memories of the drow invasion rise up and drown his mind in the crimson seas of hate.

"Well, if you mean aside from my wife-" images of the soft curve of her lips as she smiled, the soft crinkling around her eyes as she laughed at one of his jokes; the twisted look of horror on her face, frozen for all time as her decapitated body fell and her head rolled to rest at his feet-"and my children-" so young and full of promise, shattered as easily as their young bodies under the boots of drow soldiers-"and my parents-" still full of life and vitality well into the twilight of their lives, yet robbed of their remaining years under the vicious whips of priestesses of Lolth-"and the hundred men that were members of my personal guard-" all noble men with peerless devotion to his safety, devotion that cost them their lives as they were torn to shreds by the spears of drider cavalry-"and the small army that was attached to the city I was commander-in-chief of-" all good soldiers, well practiced after years of training, all dead under the relentless waves of kobold and goblin slaves sent in before the main drow force attacked-"and the city watch-" men willing to risk their safety to make sure the city was safe from crime, all murdered wholesale after the drow won- "all of whom I saw slaughtered by the drow. That's all." His voice's softness belied the growing rage inside him, a torrent of anger he hadn't experienced for the last few decades.

"You had a wife and child?" Errol could hear the slight confusion in Canna's voice, her reluctance to associate him with a family.

"Two children, but yes." He could barely even tell it was his voice, the sound distant behind the roar of blood pounding in his ears. He wasn't even sure how to deal with the rage: for so many years he hadn't felt anything but the drive to destroy the drow that ruined his life.

"How old were they?" Errol could barely hear Canna's question past the veil of rage slowly creeping over his senses.

"There were five and twelve," Jadeis muttered, feeling as if his face was torn between his befuddlement over Canna asking these blatantly untactful questions and the unfamiliar feeling of all-consuming rage. "If you mind, why the HELL are you asking me this?" It took all his effort to limit himself to just a glare, his knuckles white with the strain of keeping his hands away from Canna's throat.

"I'm not asking because I'm trying to provoke you or anything of that sort. I ask because…part of the reason why I changed was because I thought about how the person I cared about would react to what I was doing…I just wondered, if-for the people you lost, have you ever…thought they'd agree that…the ends justify the means?" Canna's voice trailed off near the end, possibly because she finally sensed a part of his growing rage. For fifty years he had done what he could, trying to save everyone else from the pain that ruined his life. And this foolish girl, barely a fourth his age without a hundredth the wisdom, DARED to question his motives? To bring up his family, dead twice as long as she had drawn breath.

"You have the AUDACITY to ask me that?" His voice wasn't even recognizable anymore, the timbre of civilization lost in his growing wrath. He was fast approaching the point of no return.

"You don't have to answer right now…" Canna's voice was weak, her face wreathed in doubt over the course their meeting had gone.

"You DARE bring up my wife and children? You have-" Errol didn't even realize he was standing, his body drawing on primordial power to accompany the rage coursing through his body. His blood felt like molten lead, the power of his magic thick in his blood in anticipation of the violence he so desperately wanted to unleash against the upstart girl. As stones began to form around his fists, his primordial magic begging for violent release, he finally realized that his body was trembling from his anger. He took a deep breath in a vain effort to calm himself, but at this point all he felt was even more energy filling his body to eradicate the source of his fury. His magic welled up inside him in preparation for a gory outlet and he began to move forward…until he felt his desk press against his legs and remembered where he was. With a great mental effort he resisted the siren call of bloody violence and felt his primal rage subside the tiniest bit.

"If you value your lives, I recommend you shut up and walk out that door, right. Now." There was the faintest bit of calm in his voice, a sign he had pulled back before reaching his breaking point.

"Fair enough." Canna's voice was quiet, her face stony with disappointment. Errol would care more if it still wasn't a supreme effort to resist smashing her face in.

"Remember this, Canna: the ONLY reason I did not strike you down right where you stand is because of where we are right now. Remember that. Count your blessings. I shall not hold myself back next time we meet." As his words followed her retreating figure Canna hung her head in shame. As the door closed, Errol felt the tension leave his body in a sudden rush, his body collapsing into his chair. He felt a void where the rage was. The funny thing was, it had been so long since he had felt ANYTHING with that much emotion that his current listlessness felt…almost right. For the first time in years he felt human again. As if to mock his current state, he felt his body reject itself for a moment before the arcane magic forced it back to its suspended state. He laughed softly in the silence of the room, at the irony of feeling human when his body was irrevocably inhuman.

"I'm surprised to see you in such high spirits after a confrontation like that." Errol almost tensed at the suddenness of the voice that breached the silence before recognition dawned on him, the rich baritone with the permanent hint of smugness familiar to his ears. He turned his head just far enough to see the figure of Reshan in the room, the tall tiefling leaning against the wall on his right and casually flipping a small dagger between his two hands. The tiefling's white mask, a sign of his membership in the Kavra'hal band of assassins, was pushed to the side. Reshan only used the mask to cover his face during a job; otherwise he enjoyed wearing it to the side to flaunt his membership in the group. Errol knew for a fact that the tiefling ended up in many altercations for his arrogance, with each altercation ending with the tiefling's victory.

"True, you don't get off unless a little conflict ends with a corpse or two. I prefer less messy methods myself." Reshan laughed at Errol's words, his lips curving into an evil smile. The tiefling relished debauchery and wasn't ashamed of it being public knowledge. Errol disliked associating himself with the vicious brute, but Reshan was always worth all the gold it cost to hire him for a job. Xellia and Reshan worked well together as a way of controlling the political forces that dominated Eastgate, with Xellia subtly manipulating the drow officials and Reshan enforcing Errol's will amongst the powerful of the criminal underworld.

"I could kill them, you know," Reshan said, cocking his head towards the door Canna had just left through. Errol considered the offer: he was pretty sure even Reshan couldn't deal with the party in a straight up fight under normal conditions, but in the city where he had countless shadows and a crowd to hide in? The only one that would give Reshan trouble was the perceptive elf, and Errol suspected that the city would be enough of a handicap to ensure Reshan's success. Still, the party hadn't directly interfered with him for a while, and it was still possible to force them to work for him if he could find a suitable incentive. Furthermore, he couldn't afford to alienate Xellia by having Zelas killed at the moment: the succubus was still a necessary asset to his plans.

"At your prices? I could kill them myself if I really wanted, so why would I throw my money away? Anyways, now that the rage has subsided it was…good that Canna forced me to remember my past." Errol remembered again how the light had dimly caught Canna's hair, bringing back memories of true sunlight reflected over fiery hair. He looked at Reshan's face and chuckled softly at the surprise there. "It's funny: I never realized five decades was long enough to forget major details of your past. Then again, I loved my wife and children for much more than their brilliant red hair." Errol outright laughed at Reshan's obvious surprise; even he was astonished by the lackadaisical way he brought up an important detail from his past. As he thought about it, though, he realized the boon Canna had inadvertently given him. He had been plagued with suspicion over why he was so reluctant to have the party killed, but now he knew a part of it was nostalgic folly. Even stripping that away the party was still a potential asset, so Errol felt no reluctance is delaying their execution.

"Not that a little casual conversation isn't enjoyable, but I hope you're here because you want your next job. Unless you want to ogle Xellia? She isn't here at the moment, but she should be back soon." Reshan smirked at Errol's words. In the past he had made it clear that he had a more enjoyable time receiving a job when the succubus was there as eye candy. Errol suspected the tiefling had dallied with the succubus on occasion, but he knew the two would never betray him. He had contingencies in place that they knew about and had to deal with before they could do anything against him, and he would know the second any of those contingencies was compromised.

Reshan walked over and placed his dagger on the desk. "First I require payment. Mistress Mouris was worth my regular price and half again as much for making it seem natural. Very few drow die of heart attacks you know." Errol chuckled softly before tapping his desk rhythmically for several seconds. After the last tap a secret compartment on the desk slid open, the enchantment removed by the counter-pattern. Reshan reached in and took out the bag of gold, feeling its weight for a couple of seconds before nodding and slipping it in his waistband. He picked up his dagger and slid it next to the bag of gold before turning to face Errol fully. Reshan bowed his head slightly, the most respect he would ever show. "Who shall I kill for you, my lord?" Errol smiled as he considered the various facets of his plans and what part required Reshan's deft blade work.

"I think you'll enjoy this one Reshan. This time I need you to kill…"

* * *

Xellia watched as Errol gave Reshan his next job, their voices a bit hard for her to make out. It didn't matter in the end: Reshan was easy to track and felt no reluctance to divulge the particulars of his missions to her. Xellia was still occupied in considering Errol's words earlier, how he talked about his long-dead wife and children. She had tried to find out information about them but had found it difficult to do so. After working with Errol so long it was annoying that such an important detail had come out of a meeting he had with Canna. Xellia ran her hand through her hair, the locks lengthening and turning to a lustrous red as her fingers passed through them. She pulled her hair forward and looked at it, considering whether it was worth it to come to Errol wearing her hair that way. Xellia would have gladly used such a little trick earlier, but…she gripped her hair, pulling at her roots. No, she wouldn't use that foolish little hussy's hair…it would be much more enjoyable to break Errol as herself. Xellia turned away from the window and walked down the alley beside the church, her hair shortening and turning white as her body shrunk and her skin became black. Any passerby on the street would only see a drow female leaving the alleyway, her face bearing a smile that would send a shiver down the spine of any sensible male.


End file.
